


Move Me, Baby

by DrunkGerbil



Series: The Clarkson-Hammonds [2]
Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Richard Hammond, Fluff and Humor, Furniture Shopping, Humor, Other, Pre-Top Gear Era, Richelle Hammond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkGerbil/pseuds/DrunkGerbil
Summary: Richelle drags Jeremy furniture shopping.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson & Andy Wilman, Jeremy Clarkson/Richard Hammond
Series: The Clarkson-Hammonds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957702
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Move Me, Baby

Jeremy doesn't know how he got roped into going furniture shopping for his apartment, even though he doesn't need or want any new furniture, but here he is, following his girlfriend of three months through an MFI like a lost puppy.

"We need a dresser," Richelle tells him patiently when he brings up his reservations.

"We?" he questions. Richelle arches an eyebrow at him. She’s very good at that. 

"I have a dresser," he protests weakly. 

"Yes, but it's full with your stuff.”

“Of course it is! It’s my dresser!”

“Well, you always complain when my crap clutters up the bedroom, so if you want me to stay over more, I need some place to put it," she answers sweetly. 

"We need a dresser," Jeremy tells the first shop attendant who wanders by. 

~

The attendant points them in the right direction. 

They pass a million dressers as Richelle leads him around by the hand, occasionally stopping to look more closely at some of the displayed furniture, and either shaking her head or jotting down the product number. Jeremy can’t remember when he last walked so much in one go. He imagines which cars would be suitable to drive through an MFI, and when he tells Richelle about it, she enthusiastically joins in on the daydreaming. They can’t agree on a car, as usual, and after much arguing over handling and speed and cornering, they come to the conclusion that they’d have to do a race with their choices to see which is better. 

If only that was possible. 

Jeremy’s probably getting away with more than the powers that be would like in the offices of the Beeb, but there’s still a little drawer in his brain where all the mad ideas for Top Gear lie that he’ll never dare pitch. The MFI race fits in neatly.   
Sometimes he shares them with Andy, equally plagued by prude rules, and they often joke about how Top Gear would be quite a different format if they’d have free reign. Recently, though, Jeremy has started telling Richelle as well, a fan of the show in her own right, and he loves how much she loves his ramblings. Lying in bed, slightly drunk and in each others’ arms, and spinning the maddest tales has quickly become one of his favorite pastimes. 

Richelle sighs wistfully, still picturing herself crashing around in a hot hatch, and not for the first time Jeremy thinks that he’s found the woman of his dreams, even if she is making him go furniture shopping. 

The journey proceeds until she comes to a halt in front of an orange lacquered monstrosity. Nothing has been as horrible an eye sore as this. Richelle studies it intently.

"No," Jeremy says immediately.

"Stand next to it," she orders, as she has done many times before. Whatever this test proves has made her dismiss all of them up until now, so Jeremy quickly complies, hoping for the same result.

Sadly, Richelle beams and declares, "Perfect!”

"It's the ugliest piece of furniture ever conceived!" Jeremy wails.

"It's just the right height, though."

"For what?!"

She only grins at him, and hops up on the dresser. It’s quite tall, her feet dangle way above the ground, even though she scoots forward until her butt’s on the very edge. Then she suddenly grabs a hold of the front of his shirt and pulls him in. Jeremy finds himself standing between her legs, with her arms wrapped around his middle, and looking down where they are pressed together groin to groin. 

“Perfect height,” Richelle repeats, smirking. “I’ll put it up, and afterwards we can test it out together.”

~

That night, after having watched Richelle build the dresser, and the following rigorous shag on top of it, Jeremy calls Andy. 

"I think Richelle moved in with me," he says instead of a greeting.

"Huh?"

"Keep up, Andrew, would you!"

Andy huffs, annoyed, and bites out, "Then start from the beginning, you idiot. And can’t you find someone who actually cares to keep updated about your love life?”

Jeremy ignores the question because a) he can’t, unless he wants to tell his mum and sister, which he doesn’t, and b) he has news to share.

"Today she took me furniture shopping, and she made me buy the ugliest dresser in the world. Then she put it up in my bedroom." 

" _She_ put it up?" Andy asks, focussing on completely the wrong part, as usual. 

"Obviously! Who else do you think would do it, me?" Jeremy scoffs, and Andy snorts.

"Anyway, she's put her stuff in it. Clothes, woman things, tools. One drawer is just full of autocar magazines." 

"I love that tools are one of her things and that she keeps them in the bedroom dresser." 

"No, you see, she lives in this tiny bedstead. That's literally all her stuff. And it's all here now." 

Andy laughs. 

"Well, it looks like your girlfriend moved in with you," he says, completely unsympathetic. “And you’ve been seeing each other for what, three months?”

“That's not the-,” Jeremy begins, thinks for a moment, and continues with, “It’s closer to four, really.”

"Well, if it's four, then it's alright," Andy mocks.

~

“You know,” Richelle starts a few weeks later while they are lounging on the sofa and watching telly. Her legs are splayed over Jeremy's lap, so he squeezes her knee and grunts to signal that he’s listening. 

“I’m paying 300 quid a month rent. That’s a lot of money for a place I hardly ever stay at anymore,” she hedges.

Jeremy turns to her, frowning. 

“You still _have_ that shit hole?!” he asks in astonishment. Mostly because she has spent every night in his apartment since they bought that blasted dresser together. 

“Yes?” Richelle answers, bemused.

“But you live _here_ ,” Jeremy continues.

“I- I do?”

“ _Yes_! You have a dresser and I already told Andy and everything.” 

Hammond actually blushes, and smiles all bright and dimply. It’s the kind of smile that makes him weak. 

“Alright,” she says. “I’ll give my notice tomorrow.” 

Then she snuggles into his side and they go back to watching the telly.


End file.
